


No Offense

by BluePhoenix73



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Confidence, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied one night stand, One Night Stands, One Shot, Short One Shot, Suggestive Themes, dean's type, picking up girls at bars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 13:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12458988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluePhoenix73/pseuds/BluePhoenix73
Summary: After a conversation with the curvy bartender serving him whiskey, Dean reconsiders his "type."Based on a personal imaginary conversation regarding the body shape of the women Dean tends to go for after I realized I wouldn't be Dean's "type" solely because I don't have a thigh gap. Rated T for suggestive language and alcohol (but I mean, I could've read this story when I was 11 and not been scarred for life).





	No Offense

**Author's Note:**

> I did write this with the intention of the bartender being female, but with a little imagination, it could definitely be a curvy male bartender, too. ;) In any case, enjoy!

It wasn’t my first bar shift: I’d seen man after man hit on every one of my friends, night after night. Most of them got shot down, given the number of a rejection hotline or the deli two blocks over. I knew where I stood: my dress size was two digits, and neither of those digits was “0.” Most nights, I was relieved that I was overlooked in favor of my slimmer friends. 

Tonight was different. 

A man had been sitting at the bar for a couple hours, told me to keep the whiskey coming. The plaid shirt over his shoulders strained slightly as it stretched across the muscles beneath it, and although his clothes left just about everything to the imagination, I had a _very_ good imagination. Just then, it was largely centered on the curve of his lips as he pressed them repeatedly to the rim of his glass, the strength of his rough hand as it grasped it, the five o’clock shadow that drew my gaze to a neck that begged me to touch it. The man’s phone was in front of him, face down. It buzzed nonstop for the first hour or so, then went quiet. His clear, green eyes just stared off into the distance. I didn’t think he’d be paying close enough attention to catch the extra button I’d undone as I was ringing up another customer.

“No offense,” he muttered, “but you’re not really—” 

“Your ‘type?’” I finished as I topped off his drink. “ _No offense_ , but you’re wrong.” 

He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?” 

I looked him over. “You don’t settle down. One-night stands, no PDA. Usually go for skinny girls with pretty hair who want more than you do.” He nodded his head side to side with an expression that said I was right. “So, tell me something…” I searched for a name. 

“Dean.” 

“Dean,” I continued, leaning forward. “Have you ever felt like you were going to break any of these little dalliances of yours? Have you ever had to hold yourself back because you thought you might snap her like a twig?” 

Dean was quiet, but I saw a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. 

A smile tugged at my mouth. “Not a problem with someone like me.” I withdrew, watching with satisfaction as his eyes shifted from blank stare to thoughtful consideration. 

 _I always get what I want._  

After taking care of a few more customers, Dean flagged me down. When I moved to pour him more whiskey, he waved the bottle away. 

“When you said you 'wouldn’t break,'” he said. “What did you mean?” 

“What do you think I meant?” 

It was Dean’s turn to smirk. “I’m sure you’re not talking about anything _I’m_ thinking about.” 

“No, I’m sure I’m not,” I said. “I suppose I meant that I like having fun, and I’m rather… _flexible_ when it comes to having fun. In many ways.” I shot him a wink and checked the clock. “It’s my break, but I’ll be back in 15 minutes. You leaving?” 

Dean shook his head. “No, I’m staying right here.” 

“Good.” 

 

* * *

 

 When I got back to the bar, Dean was slipping on the leather jacket that had been slung haphazardly over the back of the chair. 

“What happened to ‘staying right here?’” I asked. 

“Call from my brother,” he said. “But… when—?” 

“I get off work at midnight,” I said. I grabbed a pen and a napkin and scribbled my name and number on it. “Pick me up at the door.” 

Dean grinned, not breaking eye contact as he slowly slipped the napkin out of my grasp. “Count on it. And… thanks.” 

“Serving people drinks is my job, sweetie,” I said, fastening my apron around my waist. 

“Not that. For the… talk.” He ran his eyes over my curves. “I think I might enjoy being wrong.” 

“Oh, you will,” I promised with a smirk. “Trust me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ^_^ I've been having this conversation with Dean in my head for a few months, because I was bored during the hiatus, and I thought it would make a good one-shot, and Dean really should go for some curvier girls. I mean, come on. ;)
> 
> Side note: my word count when I was finished editing was 666 (although it's counted slightly differently here). That's when I knew it was done. ;P


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